


life: to be continued

by insectoid_demigoddess



Category: Kamen Rider Ghost
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Humor, Ghost Ensemble - Mentioned, M/M, cameos from other toku because i'm incorrigible and self-serving, contains some original characters but ghost ot3 is focus, future spicy chapters will have an M tag on the chapter title itself for easy navigating, generally sfw but sometimes things get Spicy, i repeat these fics have a happy ending, now ft a fraction more dads, prompt-driven fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:48:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26552374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insectoid_demigoddess/pseuds/insectoid_demigoddess
Summary: post-canon, takeru continues various things in various ways, because he can.[ a collection of breadcrumbs (question prompted fics from tumblr) focused on ghost ot3 and non-negotiable happy endings ]
Relationships: Alain/Fukami Makoto/Tenkuuji Takeru
Kudos: 15





	1. "Are you busy?"

**Author's Note:**

> > kr ghost fics written in response to requests from [writing prompts!'s question ideas #10](https://love-me-a-good-prompt.tumblr.com/post/614980322872999936/question-ideas-10). 
> 
> > these fics generally function off [this headcanon](https://si-siw.tumblr.com/post/624526360839356416/do-you-have-headcanons-of-makoto-takeru-and), because i'm simple and enjoy indulging myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ft. alia, who understands her brother and brothers-in-law (in all but official capacity) better than they give her credit for. also, she has eyes and ears, you fools.

There’s rustling from inside the king’s sitting room. Makoto knocks - once, twice, his knuckles rapping loud and clear against the door - and cocks his head, listening for any sign of acknowledgement. Behind him, Alia waits, smiling benignly as if she wasn’t coming to the same conclusions he was as the lack of answer persisted. 

To be fair, she’d been in the same position before.

Makoto tries again, pitching his voice louder. “Alain, are you busy?”

This time, a muffled giggle breaks the silence. More rustling, creaking, a concerning pause of sound and then– the distinct crash of a chair toppling over when people are sitting in it, Takeru yelping, Alain’s voice crying out. 

Makoto holds himself still - he’d heard those noises before (had, in fact, participated in making those noises as well), and in his official capacity as the king’s head of security, he judges the situation - okay, still okay. Nobody sounded like they’d broken anything. 

“Let’s give them a minute,” he tells Alia, who looks pointedly at the hand he’s resting on the doorknob. “Of course. We’re in no rush, Igor and Akari’s findings can wait.”

A minute turns into three, but Alia stays placid and composed. Makoto keeps his hand relaxed on the knob when it turns into four. At the fifth minute, he draws up all his authoritativeness and prepares to open the door–

–only for it to be opened by a delightfully ruffled Takeru, whose hoodie is zipped up as high as it can go and whose smile is bright and pitched to disarm. Makoto feels no embarrassment at falling prey to that smile, but Alia is right there and part of him protests to at least pretend to be unaffected. 

“Sorry,” Takeru says, turning his smile to Alia, “we got distracted. I’ll bring Alain around the lab in fifteen minutes, if that’s okay?”

“That’s fine.” The twinkle in Alia’s eyes as she walks away says ‘Please make sure my brother is presentable’. Makoto’s sure he’s heard her say that, verbatim, at some point when he was the one being ruffled. 

Takeru repeats his apology, but there’s a difference in the tone that has Makoto taking a measured step back from the door. “Makoto-niichan?”

“Ten minutes to get yourselves sorted out, five minutes to get to the lab,” he says, uncompromising in the face of Takeru’s pout. 

“Aren’t you going to help us get ready?”

To Makoto’s credit, he holds out for a long moment before relenting, “Fine.”

(It’s still just a moment, though. At least they aren’t late.)


	2. "Who are you talking to?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ft. shiori-sensei (oc) who really should be paid more if she has to deal with takeru.

Shiori truly didn't know what to do with the Tenkuuji boy in her class. Newly returned from a year long sick leave, yet still occasionally disappearing mid-class for who knows why (she'd checked with the nurse, he hadn't been around since the tour on his first day). He was a nice enough boy, polite and always ready with a smile for anyone, but his attendance was worrying and when she'd asked once about his aspirations for university, he'd seemed blissfully unconcerned about it.

So, she's  _ worrying _ . She doesn't get paid to do so after school hours, but she didn't become a teacher  _ just _ for money - although the thought of it helped when she's walking through a crowd of high schoolers loitering in the hallways, knotted together by gossip and without a care for the people who just want to get to the end of the hallway--

"--he's there again! That guy on the  _ motorbike _ , the one who was talking with  _ Tenkuuji _ last week."

_ That _ draws Shiori up straight. She pretends to check something on her phone, eavesdropping on her students but refusing to feel guilty about it after school hours. 

"Oooh, I see them!"  _ Please don't lean out of the window so far, Chiho-chan _ . "God, he's hot. Suits isn't with him today, though, sad for you, Mika."  _ Suits? There's  _ another  _ one _ ?  _ Tenkuuji. _

"You guys think I can chat him up before Tenkuuji gets there?"  _ Please do not, Chiho-chan. _ "Maybe~ He's on cleaning duty today, isn't he? Quick!"

The girls jostle each other, but Shiori doesn't stay to see if anyone bows to peer pressure - she had  _ questions _ to ask.

The  _ guy on the motorbike _ can't be that much older than Shiori's students. It's just that he's tall, and lean, and dressed in imposing leather, and propped up against a mean looking machine while he speaks quietly into a phone. That's it, that's the only reason she's clutching at the strap of her bag and bracing herself.

"Excuse me," Shiori squeaks. Some passing students stare but they're not from her class, she thinks (she hopes). "You're… Are you here for Tenkuuji-kun?" Now she's pitched her voice too loud. The Motorbike Guy looks at her, mutters into his phone, and then holds it aside before saying, "I am. Did you want to ask me something, ma'am?"

Shiori nods, once, and bites her lip to keep from protesting the respectful title. She's  _ at most _ a 'miss'...!

"Right. Please wait a moment." With his phone back against his ear, Motorbike Guy says, "Let's talk later. His teacher wants to talk to me about him."

Very audibly, Shiori hears, _"Who are you talking to? Why is she asking about Takeru?"_ Suspiciously excellent signal aside, the voice comes off as uncomfortably demanding. Shiori's worries are doubling by the second, and cleaning duty doesn't take anyone  _ this _ long. If she wants to get answers about Tenkuuji, she needs to act fast--

"It's Shiori-sensei," Motorbike Guy explains, patient and not at all like he'd memorized Shiori's name for nefarious purposes. "Takeru's homeroom teacher. I'm being rude, I'll call you when we're headed over."

What Shiori should have said: _"I'd like to ask about Tenkuuji-kun's condition, and if his guardian is in any position to have a lengthy talk about it at school."_

What Shiori actually says: "Tenkuuji-kun told you about me?"

Motorbike Guy nods, and that smile coupled with that jawline makes Shiori rethink her warnings about Chiho-chan leaning too far out of the window. She'd probably be a hypocrite, if she were in the same position.

"Takeru appreciates how understanding you are about his condition." 

"Yes, well, that's what I wanted to ask about," Shiori adjusts her grip on her bag self-consciously, unnerved by the way Motorbike Guy suddenly focuses his attention on her. "Tenkuuji-kun isn't in trouble, it's just that I was personally concerned about his condition with how it's keeping him from attending class regularly."

"...Has it?"

Despite wanting to, Shiori doesn't get to elaborate on what she means or examine Motorbike Guy's suddenly closed-off expression, because that's when Tenkuuji arrives and  _ throws himself _ at Motorbike Guy. They don't topple over, but they spend perhaps a moment  _ too long _ all tangled up together. Shiori coughs awkwardly for their attention.

"Shiori-sensei!" There it is, Tenkuuji's blessed smile. Shiori almost feels bad about her suspicions when she basks in that smile.  _ Almost _ .

"Tenkuuji-kun, I was just asking--" Ah. She doesn't know his name. Tenkuuji rectifies that for her though, offering, "Makoto-niichan?" as easily as he doles out smiles and pockets of warmth when people stare at him for too long.

"Makoto-nii--ah, yes, Makoto-...san, I was just asking about--"

"Your condition," Makoto supplies, casting a meaningful look at Tenkuuji from head to toe. "You haven't mentioned anything about it recently."

"Because there's nothing to mention," Tenkuuji protests. He grabs the other helmet hanging on the bike and throws another blinding smile at Shiori as he fixes it on his head. "Shiori-sensei's probably just worried because I keep falling asleep in class."

It's not a lie, but he's not worse than the other students. Shiori isn't able to explain, however, as Makoto sighs and regards her with an apologetic look. "He's not usually a bad student, I hope you know."

"Yes, I do--He isn't, ah,  _ troublesome _ ," Shiori lies - well, Tenkuuji really isn't  _ worse _ than other students, so it isn't a  complete lie. 

From where he's already seated on the bike, tapping away on Makoto's phone, Tenkuuji chimes in, "I promise to stay awake for the lectures next week, Shiori-sensei. Current events are part of history, too!"

Makoto chuckles, low and fond. A trio of students is quieted to staring by the sound; Shiori can't blame them, tongue-tied herself. 

"Sorry to run off on you like this," Makoto says, having mounted his bike in the scant few seconds Shiori used to compose herself. "We have a prior engagement we really can't be late to."

"See you, Shiori-sensei! Stay safe!" Tenkuuji waves at her until the end of the street, at which point he locks his arms around Makoto's waist, looking perfectly comfortable as he does so. 

Shiori waves back, despite the sinking feeling that she'd just gained more questions than answers, because she isn't immune to Tenkuuji and, frankly, she doesn't know if anyone  _ could _ be. 


	3. "Why didn't you listen to me?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ft. makoto jumping to conclusions. mentions of takeru's less-than-ideal coping mechanisms, but nothing too heavy. 
> 
> when i questioned "fluff or angst?", my good friend said "why not both?" and that's what you call support.

When Makoto and Alain arrive in the human world, Onari is the one who greets them. He makes excuses for Takeru and manages to get in some long-suffering complaints about his less than stellar achievements in training, but beyond ‘going somewhere for a walk’, nobody knows where Takeru had gone off to.

Makoto doesn’t worry - not yet. A walk could just as easily be a trip to the graves, down the sidestreets feeding stray cats, or even the river, an eyecon or two in his sleeves (maybe he worries a little - there’s no sign of rain yet, but Takeru isn’t known for bringing umbrellas along on his walks). 

They stay for tea and snacks at Onari’s insistence, catching up with Jabel, Shibuya, and Narita. An hour later, they sit down with Igarashi - who persists in asking after the Fukami siblings’ health and, as such, is one of Alain’s favorite people - and relay Akari and Igor’s findings, with the intent of bringing back his comments and questions. Their discussion is exhaustive, and though Alain does most of the talking, Makoto listens closely and tries to ask follow up questions like Akari would.

It’s past sunset when they return to the temple. Again, Onari is at the gate to greet them, notably less cheerful than he had been earlier that afternoon. Makoto knows the look, and he clears the last flight of steps in three leaps despite the weight that has pulled his heart to sink.

“Makoto-dono, good evening, I hope your trip was fruitful–”

“Is he back yet?”

Onari’s nervous flutterings cease, his lips thinning into a grim line.

“I’m afraid not.”

 _Now_ Makoto worries.

They search the temple, first, at Alain’s insistence. A walk could have taken Takeru anywhere, but it was just as likely that he’d returned without anyone noticing and holed up somewhere for a nap. 

He was like a cat that way, and the sun and the breeze had been so pleasant - Onari latches onto the idea with the same manic fervor he devotes to everything, but not even that energy could buoy him through the each instance of finding nothing and no one where they’d thought Takeru would be.

The eyecons try to help when they move to search outside of the temple. Makoto leaves Alain to sort out a plan with them, taking only Toucon Boost when it breaks ranks and launches itself at Makoto. Tenkuuji Ryu’s worry for his son’s safety is heavy on Makoto’s shoulder, despite the negligible weight of the eyecon itself, and he rushes out even before Alain finishes reassuring him.

He can’t shake off the doubling layers of frustration and regret, the what-if’s that multiply the more he thinks of them. Past the graves, down the streets, all the way to the riverside – Makoto is plagued with dread. Earlier that day, why hadn’t he asked Onari about how Takeru was? Wasn’t it just recently that his teacher had come up to Makoto, to ask about Takeru’s condition? Hadn’t Akari mentioned that Takeru had been taking more naps lately, claiming exhaustion or a bad bout of sleep? 

There were _signs_ , signs Makoto had missed or overlooked or deliberately brushed off. It doesn’t occur to him to blame Alain for not noticing, not when the clues had been in front of both of them. 

Standing by the river, which sits so still unlike his thoughts, Makoto closes his eyes against the worst case scenario he can no longer avoid. What if - and he hates the thought, hates how even Toucon Boost notices him gritting his teeth and holding his shaking fists to his sides - what if Takeru had gone inside himself again? What if his eyecon had gotten lost? _Damaged_? What if it was _deliberate_ –

Lightning flashes overhead, followed by thunderclaps in quick succession. It starts to drizzle, and then, without warning, the rain starts to _pour_. Makoto is soaked in seconds, and he thinks, hollow and cold, that he should have brought an umbrella.

For a not insignificant amount of time, he stands unmoving at the riverside, paralyzed by his thoughts. It’s only because Houdini has joined Toucon Boost in knocking against him that he notices Shibuya, just as drenched, waving for his attention up by the road.

“Makoto-san! He’s home!”

Takeru piles the third towel on him as Alain continues to regard him with a regally unimpressed expression. He ignores that, and focuses on Takeru, who smiles at him like he’s done something unspeakably silly. There’s traces of worry, too, under the fondness. Makoto feels warmed from the inside, just looking at him.

“Makoto-niichan,” he says, gentle as he dries Makoto’s hair, “Why didn’t you listen to Alain before you left?”

“That’s right,” Alain chimes in, taking a quick second to thank Narita for the fresh pot of tea before turning back to Makoto, “Why _didn’t_ you listen to me? _You_ were thinking it this morning, how fickle the weather could be and how Takeru never remembers to take an umbrella when he goes out.”

(Takeru, mildly affronted: “Sometimes I do.” Onari, indulgent but dismissive: “ _Sometimes_.”)

“I was worried.” Makoto refuses to be cowed. His teeth chatter around his words only a _little_. “Nobody knew where you were, you didn’t even leave a note or tell the eyecons where you were going.”

At least Takeru has the grace to look guilty. “It was just a trip to the library, I didn’t expect to take long.” He hadn’t been able to bring back the books he’d wanted, apparently the rain had reached the city earlier than it did the riverside and the temple. Takeru had wandered back to the temple, damp but unharmed, and had almost run out himself when he’d heard that Makoto was looking for him.

“I admit, it wasn’t one of my first guesses,” Alain says, taking Makoto’s empty cup and refilling it, “the Grimms won’t cease their jibes about it.” Which is enough punishment, Makoto thinks, and drinks his tea without saying so. Alain purses his lips, hands clenched into fists on his lap, “You thought the worst, though.”

Takeru hums, before sitting himself beside Makoto, leaned against his side and warm even through two layers of thick towels. “I did promise to let you know if I was going to go somewhere for a long nap." 

He did, though it had been difficult for him to do so. Makoto had just - jumped to conclusions, inadvisably and maybe a little desperately. Alain sighs, and his troubled expression melts off with the motion; he takes up the space opposite Takeru, wrapping his arms around Makoto and resting his face against his towel-laden shoulder. He’s warm, too, and Makoto is saved from the dilemma of where to lean when Takeru presses closer, effectively trapping him between them.

A comfortable silence settles over the three of them, allowing Makoto to somehow finish his tea without spilling, despite the arms locked around him. He’s thinking about how to maneuver refilling his cup without jostling either Alain or Takeru, when Alain lifts his head and says, "Next time, bring an umbrella, at least.”

Appalled at the idea that he was still being scolded, Makoto asks, “Should you really be telling _me_ that?” On his other shoulder, Takeru shifts as if to hide. “ _Hey_.”

“No,” Alain’s eyes narrow, “I’m telling _both of you_." 

Well. That was fair, Makoto thinks. "Good.” Beside him, Takeru lets out a small 'eep!’ and tries to seek sanctuary under his damp towel. Without a second thought, and despite Alain watching them incredulously, Makoto allows him. 

Takeru is warmer without the towels, Makoto is happy to note.


	4. "Are you busy?" (side: Takeru)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ft. akari and the struggle of trying to do hw when your bff’s bfs keep coming by. also, it’s summer, takeru can totally pay a visit to the ganma world for more than a few days.

The third time it happens, Akari starts to doubt the efficacy of her plan to hole up in the palace’s library to do schoolwork with Takeru. 

In her defense, she had assumed that the reigning king and his head of security had _jobs_ to do on any given day. She hadn’t prepared for the surplus of free time they seemed intent on spending ‘wandering’ by the library. 

“Are you busy?” Makoto asks, _innocently_ , from the doorway. He hasn’t set foot inside, perpetuating the quaint lie of 'not being a nuisance’ - but it doesn’t matter, since that’s enough to distract Takeru, _again_. 

He practically leaps from his seat, and only Akari’s honed reflexes prevent another cascade of handouts from scattering over the floor. She’d learned to stay vigilant from when it had been Alain’s head poking in with the same question.

“Sorry, Makoto-niichan, we’re still figuring out my summer homework.” Takeru is sweetly contrite in both tone and body language, and Akari has to look away from the absolutely besotted expression that he draws over Makoto’s face with his audible pout, slumped shoulders, and the apologetic tilt of his head.

“It’s fine,” Makoto says to Takeru, and Akari is mollified, _slightly_ , by how he has the sense to nod at her and say, “Sorry to interrupt." 

(Alain had also apologized before, but he’d only been by _twice_ , and he’d brought Alia with him the second time so Akari could hardly be a hypocrite.)

They say their goodbye’s - Makoto receives a peck on the cheek and continues to look as smitten as he did that day Takeru beat the meaning of friendship into him - and Takeru returns to his seat with his own apologies. Akari forgives him because she can’t _not_ , and because Takeru likes to take breaks from his English readings by correcting her History essays.

This time, their blissfully productive flow lasts for a full half hour before a knock breaks the silence, rousing Takeru from his puzzle of a comprehension test and Akari from the admittedly gripping biography of space explorer Ohtori Tsurugi.

The door cracks open carefully, and Alain peers in. He doesn’t seem to be in uniform anymore, from what little of him Akari can see, and she internally despairs the rest of the study schedule she’d planned out for the afternoon.

"Hello,” the sovereign king of the Ganma world and Akari’s technical superior says, “It’s mid-afternoon already. Are you still busy?” At that, Takeru shoots her a look that is equal parts a plea and a bargain: if _he’s_ free, then _she’s_ free, and Akari has always taken pride in choosing the most rational and logical of choices.

After a beat, she covers her eyes with both hands and sighs - deeply, hopelessly, inconsolably - before melting in her seat and waving at Takeru. 

“He’s all yours." 

Takeru actually topples over his chair this time, but Akari can hardly blame him when she elbows a stack of books off the table at the sight of Alia following Alain inside.

Maybe a break wasn’t such a bad idea at all.


	5. "Who told you that?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an accompaniment to the previous prompt-fill. ft. kanon and little sister privileges, and what we could have gotten if gyro had trained kanon.

“Hey, nii-chan, d'you really have time to be playing around like this?” ****

It’s a mark of much improvement that Kanon can carry a conversation _and_ focus on a fight at the same time. Makoto is proud of every bit of progress that his sister makes in her training, but maybe this is one he likes the least. 

“You’re a few years too early to be taunting me.” He blocks a series of blows, corrects Kanon’s angle, and has to work to deflect the next volley of hit. His sister learns fast, and isn’t afraid to go all out on him - it’s very endearing, even and _especially_ when she lands a hit.

Today’s not that day, though. “I’m just saying!" 

They spring apart, hands and arms in defensive stances, and Makoto is making note of adjusting Kanon’s footwork when she continues, "I heard Takeru-niichan’s visiting for the season.”

“Yes, he is.” That was common knowledge by now, if not because of Alain’s brightened mood then because of Alia’s. Kanon hadn’t gotten the chance to greet him yet, their schedules had had them missing each other’s free time the past two days.

“Did you want to–”

“Was he why you skipped guard rotation the other day?”

Makoto pauses.

“Who told you that?”

Kanon signals for a time-out with her hands, and smiles too widely and too innocently when she answers, “Didn’t you mention it before?”

No, Makoto had not. “Sure. And when was this ‘before’?”

“Oh, you know, dinner, I think… Or maybe while you were in that review last week, with Alia-sama and Alain…” Under Alia’s tutelage, even Kanon’s scrambling comes off as elegant - but Makoto is her brother, hiding things from him simply isn’t possible.

Before he can call her out on her obvious - but positively adorable - flailing, another voice calls out from across the field and effectively steals Makoto’s attention.

“Kanon-chan! Makoto-niichan!”

There’s a thump as Takeru throws down his satchel and rushes at them, reaching Kanon first and giving her a tight hug that lifts her off her feet. Once she’s settled again, Takeru turns to him, and Makoto doesn’t even get to protest how sweaty he is before Takeru’s throwing himself at him.

They stumble but don’t fall, and Takeru smacks a noisy kiss against Makoto’s cheek before drawing back to smile up at him, a sun in miniature.

“Sorry, were you busy?”

“Not at all!” Kanon answers for her brother. Makoto sends her an amused look over Takeru’s head, which has her flashing him a thumb’s up and jogging back in the direction of the palace, Takeru’s satchel over her shoulder.

“Not at all, apparently,” Makoto dutifully repeats. They haven’t let go of each other, and Takeru seems perfectly happy with this and Makoto’s answer.

“Then, I can spar with you?" 

There’s probably a reason they can’t in the book bag Takeru had carelessly abandoned, but Makoto can plead plausible deniability if Akari questions him. In the worst case scenario, he’ll just ask Alia for help - and considering how delighted she’d been when Alain had brought her along to distract Akari and Takeru from their study session, she’d most likely be happy to do the same again.

"Alright. No suits, winner gets dessert?”

Takeru nods, and Makoto spares a moment to wonder if his smile had somehow gotten brighter, before they’re separating and facing off with each other.


	6. "Do you want me to stop?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ft. eye-to-eye communication, everyone doing their respective best, and my apologies to shibuya who has to witness these goofs

Over Takeru’s bent head, Makoto and Alain hold a conversation communicated purely through eye contact:

Makoto maintains a level, unbothered gaze, a staple of older siblings everywhere. It’s the look that says _‘You made this mess, it’s your problem’_. 

In response, Alain affects the disposition of a younger sibling holding fast to the last shred of innocence they can afford. _'I didn’t know it would be_ this _bad!’_ Unimpressed, Makoto raises an eyebrow. _'Then, this’ll teach you to learn from your mistakes.’_

Alain narrows his eyes at Makoto. _'Your judgments are uncalled for’_ , which Makoto knows is just fancy talk for Alain calling him a hypocrite. He shrugs, expression relaxing into an ‘ _I told you so’_ in the bland set of his mouth. 

Makoto’s exact words had actually been: “You’ll regret this.” Takeru and Alain had both protested - Takeru because his skill was being called into question, and Alain because he couldn’t imagine anything Takeru would do to or for him being something regrettable. Still, Makoto wouldn’t retract his statement - he knew he was right, and the present situation only proved it.

Below the line of their gazes, Takeru hums, diligently attending to his self-appointed task. Makoto and Alain glance down at him with twin looks of fondness for a brief moment, before picking their conversation up again.

Makoto nods pointedly at Takeru, cheerfully doing his best. _'Do you want him to stop?’_

Above his pursed lips, Alain squints. If he could talk, he would have said something like, “That is not a viable option,” or “And how am I meant to do something as rude as that?” Luckily for Makoto, he can read _'No’_ from Alain’s sulky side-glance just as clearly.

His easy posture and the measured look Makoto settles on Alain says _'Listen to me next time, I know better’_ , a sentiment Alain knows too well from his older siblings’ own versions. It takes much effort to keep himself from sticking his tongue out, or puffing his cheeks up like he’s seen Kanon do when the siblings quarreled.

Instead Alain rolls his eyes, wordlessly irreverent. Makoto narrows his eyes at him, but is better versed in withholding reactions - it doesn’t stop him from glancing deliberately at the unopened box of takoyaki on the low table, waiting for them to finish. Alain notices, then stares at Makoto in barely suppressed shock. 

He _wouldn’t_ –!

The tilt of Makoto’s head says he _would_.

Unaware of - or, more likely, blissfully ignoring - their conflict, Takeru says, “I’m almost done! I swear this is the last time I’m unwrapping this _obi_.”

That throws Alain and Makoto off their rhythm cleanly, and they both rush to reassure Takeru that it’s fine, they’re sure he’ll get it this time.

Shibuya, who’d been fidgeting sitting on his hands for the last ten minutes as they’d all allowed Takeru to fuss with Alain’s formal _kimono_ , finally breaks his silence. “Takeru-sama, I can show you the correct knot again if you want.” _Please let me show you the correct knot again_ , says Shibuya’s frazzled glancing at the _obi_ in Takeru’s hands.

“I’ve got it, I’m sure I’ll get it right this time!” Takeru sends a thumb’s up at Shibuya, who sighs and settles in his seat, hands firmly clasped on his lap. If anything else, Makoto acknowledges, Onari had taught his apprentices how to choose their battles well.

Buoyed by optimism, Takeru returns to his task, glancing up at Alain briefly to ask, “You don’t mind, right?” Alain nods, before scrambling to answer properly, “No, no, of course not." 

Takeru smiles, lifting the spirits of everyone in the room by a not inconsiderable number of degrees. Alain smiles, too, all fond as he looks down at Takeru.

"Please take as long as you like.”

(Only Makoto hears the additional thought - _'I’m too distracted by you being on your knees in front of me to actually be bothered’_ \- and that, at least, is something he and Alain agree on.)

“Alright, then next is Makoto-niichan! Alain can watch so he knows how to do it, too.”

“What- no, I’m not-”

“That sounds perfect, thank you, Takeru.”


	7. "I don't want to scare you away."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> edited for fit, ft. an OC who tried his best but just didn’t succeed, and a call back to shiori-sensei and the events in "who are you talking to?" (ch2). 
> 
> inspired by various pictures of shun nishime+ryosuke yamamoto+hayato isomura at disney sea.

Shiori-sensei was right, Tenkuuji kept the _most bizarre_ company. So bizarre, in fact, that Hiromi is starting to think that maybe they were better off as friends, as high school chums who 'experimented emotionally without actually doing anything about it'.

The man in the white suit is _still_ smiling when he prompts Hiromi for an answer. He remembers that Chiho and the others called him 'Suits', which, while descriptive, completely left out the imposing air he carried himself with. It feels like Hiromi should be staring at his probably-more-expensive-than-my-rent shoes instead of the expression on his face that promises no one will find Hiromi's body if he answers wrong.

"We don't want to scare you away," Motorbike Guy says. Except by the plain virtue of their existence, they _are_ , but that's on Hiromi. Maybe. "It's just that we couldn't help but notice things, and your confirmation would really help move things along."

They noticed _things_ , meaning: Hiromi repeatedly asking Tenkuuji out on 'friend-dates' with increasingly few participants. Chiho is the best wing-woman in history, and maybe he should have listened to her more closely when she talked about how cute Tenkuuji looked, dangling off Motorbike Guy's shoulders that one time he came by and talked with Shiori-sensei. 

He'd been working up to actually asking him out on a date, a _romantic_ date, just the two of them, pushing forward despite how Tenkuuji's nigh on impossible to get a hold of every other weekend, and today was a sort-of primer for that. 

Today's 'friend-date' had him and Tenkuuji and the gang going to the amusement park, and the pair of them 'losing track of everyone else', long enough to get a turn on the ferris wheel. That plan is his alone, working off shoujo manga and varied lists about how to win someone's heart. After all, if it worked for several no-name MC's in visual novels, why not him?

Suits and Motorbike Guy, _that's_ why.

 _"Are you courting Tenkuuji Takeru?"_ Suits had asked. And Hiromi had stood frozen on the path, now distinctly aware that no one had passed them for what felt like ages. He's alone with two strangers and has only marginally passed physical education. They're going to find his body in pieces, and he'd have deserved it.

"Yes, I was." Hiromi's mother would be proud of his honesty. Or pissed at his inability to save his own hide. Suits and Motorbike Guy don't do anything, but the temperature around them drops even further and Hiromi continues, faltering, "I, uh, I'm going to stop that, now."

Suits' smile is a knife edge. He's read that description in light novels before, but seeing it in person is something else. "Good choice. He's taken."

Hiromi could see that. It's a fact he's not likely to forget soon.

"Good talk," Motorbike Guy says, clapping a hand on his shoulder as they walk past him. "Careful on your way home, Yamada-san." "Have a pleasant evening," Suits says.

Further down the path, Hiromi hears Tenkuuji cry out in delight. He's not a masochist, but he does turn furtively, to catch a glimpse of them before the exiting crowd thickens again. He sees Tenkuuji holding up the funky glasses he'd bought during the day and carefully placing them on Suits and Motorbike Guy in turns.

 _There goes my high school romance_ , Hiromi thinks. When Motorbike Guy catches him looking, just above Tenkuuji's head and through mildly ridiculous blue-&-purple polka dotted frames, Hiromi thinks, _And good riddance to that_ and scurries off.

Maybe Chiho would commiserate with him in karaoke.


	8. "What time is it?" (M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ft. schedules and why you should pay attention to them, and the reason why this work gets bumped up to Not Rated (future spicy chapters, if they arrive, will get an M tag on the title itself).

The hour is late, and Alain knows he should be sleeping. Takeru, too, and Makoto - they all have a schedule to keep, but he's hard pressed to consider their current activities completely excluded from the timetable, given how attractively it presents itself.

Takeru's hair is dark against his cheeks and the blankets he clutches at. The contrast is striking with how hot the rest of him is under Alain's touch; Makoto was right to miss the sunset-orange shade he favored. It suited Takeru to be bright in all aspects, and though Alain knows it's a mere cosmetic alteration, it feels fitting and to see it absent makes everything seem slightly off center.

Maybe that's why he's so distracted, why his movements are slowed, and why Takeru has to keep begging - _demanding_ for his attention. The word please never did sound so irreverent until Takeru got his hands on it - or rather, his tongue, his mouth, the distracting and _perfect_ redness of his lips --

"Maybe you should get on top, Takeru," comes Makoto's suggestion, in it's own cadence of natural aloofness. "His Highness seems like he's got something else on his mind."

Before Alain can dredge up a sufficient response (something other than hurtling a decorative pillow at Makoto), his back meets the bed and Takeru claims his lap and his slack-jawed mouth with desperate eagerness.

It's impossibly endearing, and much, _much_ too cute. His nails are going to leave marks on Takeru's hips again, and it'll be entirely Alain's fault for not being able to resist pulling Takeru closer.

The force behind Takeru biting down on the swell of his bottom lip says: _Pay attention_. The deliberate flash of teeth when Makoto smiles at him from the end of the bed adds: _Or else_. 

It's a potent threat, an irrefusable incentive -- Alain stills and keeps his eyes riveted on Takeru, who sits up and reaches behind him for Alain's cock to hold steady as he sinks down on it. The sigh that escapes him is almost a sob, and Alain would have been concerned if not for the fact that Takeru immediately sets a punishing pace, bouncing on his lap with palpable avidity.

The rhythm of the moment is all on Takeru now, and Alain is smitten and helpless, left only to go along with it. His hands get pinned to the bed when he tries to pleasure Takeru further, and Makoto has the gall to laugh at the surprised squeak he emits. 

"Your fault for being so distracted." The rasp in Makoto's voice is telling, but it's eclipsed by the laughter he has no qualms about directing at Alain. ( _That_ is endearing, too.)

To his credit, Alain doesn't have any other moment of inattention for the rest of the night. Or the early morning, for that matter.

Takeru groans when the light of Gamma's three suns pours into the room, unhindered by the thick curtains at either the window or around Alain's bed. Beside him, with his face buried against Takeru's back, Alain fumbles for the blanket at Takeru's waist, and upon finding it, draws it over both their heads.

Makoto shakes his head at their antics, and continues to open up the room and bring out day clothes and accessories from Alain's bureau. 

"Try not to fall asleep again, this is already the second time I've woken you up."

Muffled by the blankets, Takeru asks, "...What time is it?" at the same time Alain says "Too early."

Dutifully, Makoto informs them that they're luckily still half an hour from being late for breakfast. And, more importantly - "The trans-dimensional diplomatic advance guard is arriving today, but in the afternoon. So, you're not late for that, either."

A satisfied hum rises from the blanket -- and, nothing else, after a few moments. Makoto, having long ago made adjustments in his schedule for exactly this kind of scenario, grabs the closest end of the rumpled sheets, gives exactly no warning, and _pulls_.

Against all odds, they make it to breakfast - and right on time, too.


	9. "It's not as bad as it looks."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ft. a truly startling amount of gaorangers, because i love them. and takeru, being takeru.

_ It's not as bad as it looks _ , Takeru thinks to himself as he peers down the cliff. Unnatural darkness aside, it's a clean drop and there doesn't seem to be anything other than the ground to break his fall. Worst case scenario: he lands on the flower he's meant to be bringing up and gets nothing but bruises for the trouble; best case scenario: he makes it down and then back up with the flower, completely without incident.

There's only one thing that'll tip the balance to his favor.

He looks back to the boys - one in black, one in white - who'd brought him there, asking for a favor. They don't look like they'd particularly mind if he backed out now, but --

"Just one thing. Who's the flower for again?"

In unison, the boys reply: "Our dad."

Exactly.  _ That's _ why he'd agreed. Smiling, Takeru tells them to give him just a bit of time.

In the blink of an eye, Takeru misjudges the next ledge he's reaching for, his feet falter on the lip of his thin foothold, and he falls head-first into the blank, black void.

The drop is quick, the moment of unconsciousness when his head hits the ground hard enough even quicker. When Takeru blinks awake from greyed-out black, he wonders if any time has passed at all. As he sits up, there's nothing of his body that makes him wince in pain, though he vividly recalls the solid  _ thump! _ of his body landing on the ground. 

There's dust on his clothes and dark all around him, but otherwise no cause for alarm. Perpetually worrying high pain tolerance aside, there's nothing to feel pained by, and Takeru reconsiders the instinct to panic when he realizes that he can't feel anything at all. He  _ might _ be dead again, which is a normal conclusion, but also - he  _ might _ just be in some in-between world, some purgatory-type place that means no harm to people even if they don't exactly belong there.

(He ignores the brighter flash of panic when he tries to call his belt and nothing happens. Purgatory had  _ rules _ , everybody knew that. Dead or alive, he could become Ghost, but right now he's just in the in-between, that's why he can't. Sound logic. There's no reason to panic.)

It's the feeling in his gut that settles it - there are easier ways to trick him, a cry for help would have done the thing, but the favor was from two sons for their father, and Takeru refuses to think that there's a lie anywhere in those facts.

He gets to his feet, dusts himself off, and looks up - from where he now stands, the edge of the cliff and the flower he'd ventured down for flicker like lightning strikes, an abnormal play of light in a place where there's no source of it. It's a steep climb, not impossible, but without much in the way of 'safe area to step on' or 'secure rock to hold on to'.

Vaguely Takeru thinks it'd be easier if he could just float up, despite the requirement of him being 'just dead enough' to do so. The void swallows the hysterical laugh that bubbles out of him, but not the gleam of light over his shoulder that cuts it short. Something twinkles in the distance, and, lacking any option other than continued hysteria or birthing terrible ideas, Takeru walks towards it. 

If he could just find a way up the cliff again...

"It's not as bad as it looks," the man with eyes the color of  _ ginkgo _ leaves says, his glance sliding from between Makoto and Alain with remarkably little fear despite the fact that they look one word away from full-on assault, witnesses be damned. "I've been there before and I'm here now so,  _ obviously _ , there's a way out."

"Regardless, that he was even  _ coerced _ into going there--" Years of kinghood has lent Alain's voice enough steel to be impregnable, but the man interrupts him as if that meant absolutely nothing.

"Oi, let's call it as it is and say he went there  _ on his own _ . S'not my boys' fault he agreed to do them a favor."

Makoto shifts his gaze from the man who casually refuses to be cowed by their presence to the 'boys' in question, a pair of twins standing at either side of him. One in black and one in white, both tall enough to dwarf their older companion by more than a few inches. They share his careless air with the lack of expression natural to teenagers, and, unsurprisingly, a distinctly inhuman aura.

"So is it Takeru's fault that your boys like to trick humans?" 

Makoto's question draws all eyes on him, and identical twitches of the corners of their mouths from the twins. The man between them grimaces.

"... I won't deny that," he sighs, reaching up deftly to pinch the boys' ears and pull them down to bow. The boys bend without fuss, but also don't make any effort to look particularly apologetic. The man continues, "Sorry. They have a really terrible sense of humor, they're working on it."

"We got it from God," the one in black says. The one in white nods. "He'll help your friend."

Alain makes a face and pockets his eyecon. " _ Another _ one?" He turns to Makoto, half-exasperated, half-betrayed, "I know you said Japanese religions have many gods, but isn't this too much?"

Frankly, Makoto agrees, but he's not sure which god these twins are referring to, and it already looks like a headache knowing the answer. 

"Right. Okay. Since we're doing this anyway--" the man sketches a quick bow and says, "The name's Washio Gaku. The kid in black is Yasei and the one in white is Hokkyoku. You got anywhere big and quiet enough where we can summon God for a bit?"

The temple is close, and Onari's tremulous voice is coming closer; Makoto and Alain barely glance at each other as they agree and introduce themselves, titles and all. Their shared intuition proves right as Gaku stands a little straighter at the words  _ Kamen Rider _ . He gives them an unsubtle once over before nodding to himself.

"That kid - Takeru - he's a Kamen Rider, too, then?" At their confirmation, Gaku nods again. "That tracks. Alright. When we get to the temple, you two know what to do, ah?" Yasei and Hokkyoku make an affirmative sound, and Gaku faces Alain and Makoto with the resigned smile of a long-suffering adult figure (Alia wears it with more grace, but it's essentially the same).

"It's not likely they'll ever properly apologize, so, if you're fine with it, how about I just owe you a favor from the GaoRangers?"

The name tickles something in Makoto's memory, but it's Onari who stumbles to a stop right behind them, gawking inelegantly before throwing himself into a deep bow.

"Oh my  _ word _ , of all unprecedented auspiciousness, for the  _ Noble Eagle  _ himself to be here--!"

The light, as it has for the grand total of two times he's followed it, leads Takeru to a youth bathed in light. 

"Hello," the boy says, his voice echoing and sending waves through whatever Takeru is made up of at the moment. The light that emanates from him makes it difficult to guess his age (Takeru vacillates between 'disconcertingly young' and 'old enough'), but there's no doubt that he's anything but normal. Why beings of unfathomable power always choose this form, Takeru will never understand. 

At least his eyes aren't hurting when he looks at the teenager who radiates an inexplicable sense of authority despite wearing a cap backwards on his head and a t-shirt that has Gudetama on it.

He replies, "Hello," with a smile because it feels natural to do so. There's something distant about the boy, yes, but it isn't suffocating and disorienting as part of Takeru feared it would be. 

"I'm sorry to intrude in your space," Takeru adds. 

"It isn't by your doing alone." God - at least, Takeru is sure it's  _ some _ type of god - replies, sounding faintly apologetic. "You were sent for a favor." When Takeru confirms this with a nod, God asks, "Will you finish it, or return now to where you belong?"

Choosing the easier option doesn't even occur to Takeru, who smiles and puts his hands together as he dips into a quick bow to God. "If it isn't too much trouble, I'd like to finish the favor first."

Takeru sees a chip in one of God's front teeth when he grins. "Of course."

"It's not as bad as it looks," Shibuya tells Takeru when he walks up the temple steps with God -  _ 'Call me Fuutaro' _ \- beside him. That's probably a sweet white lie, but the general presence around the temple is calm and untroubled, so Takeru is inclined to believe it.

The  _ it _ Shibuya is referring to turns out to be Alain and Makoto on their butts on the ground, disheveled as they only ever are after a particularly engaging spar, at the feet of a man in yellow who's grinning at their disgruntled faces. Seated on the steps next to Onari are the twins Takeru had met earlier that day, the one in white holding a jacket and the one in black holding up his hands, three fingers up on the left and none on the right.

"Oh, hey," the man in yellow says at the sight of them, "there you are, Fuutaro." He calls for a timeout and walks towards the twins, grabbing them by their ears and pulling them that way to Takeru. At his side, Fuutaro sighs.

Standing in front of Takeru, the man has to look up a little, as opposed to the twins who stand almost at the same height as him if not taller (and if they weren't stooped over by the man's hold on their ears). "Takeru-kun, right?" 

"Uh, yes." Takeru glances at the twins who look completely unbothered by their positions before holding up the flowers he'd traveled through a pocket of the spirit realm for. "I was asked to get these for you, I think-- Mister--?"

"Washio Gaku, and,  _ honestly _ ?" Gaku releases the twins to take the flowers, holding them carefully in his cupped hands. He shoots the teens on either side of him two separate looks of exasperation, but it isn't long before he's smiling, the creases at the corners of his eyes multiplying in an expression of delight.

The twins start to smile too, and Takeru can't help but join them. It's even easier when the twins direct their smiles at him, along with a bow and a chorused "Thank you". He's about to say that it wasn't any trouble at all, but Fuutaro interrupts him, a scolding twist to his mouth that makes Alain and Makoto's expressions darken as they approach.

"You fell off a cliff, and it's only because of your… uniqueness that you didn't suffer much from it." Fuutaro levels a look at the twins that gets them scooting behind Gaku, not quite guilty but not as carelessly confident as they had been earlier. "You're lucky Takeru-kun is both kind and sturdy enough, you owe him for this."

It's Takeru's turn to interrupt Alain and Makoto when they look fit to add more to the sentiment, throwing his arms wide to keep them from looming over the twins and pitching his voice the cheeriest he can as he says, "I'll take the favor, sure, but I'm happy to help either way." 

To Gaku (and to reassure Alain and Makoto as well), he adds, "I don't think they were trying to be mean or anything. They said it was for their dad, so I couldn't say no."

"For their-- _ oh _ ." Gaku blinks, looking between the twins as if the idea hadn't occurred to him before then. They nod and, still in sync, grab hold of Gaku's sleeves with one hand each. "Really, you two…"

Alain's harsh stare softens a little at the sight, and Makoto heaves a little sigh that means Takeru is mostly off the hook for worrying them so much. 

"...Well, I, huh." Politely, no one mentions the blush spreading over Gaku's cheeks as he collects himself. "Right. Apologies are done, so - keep that favor in mind, alright, Takeru-kun? Onari over there knows how to reach us."

They exchange goodbyes over Onari's flustered bowing, something that Makoto explains as 'mild hysterics about meeting a childhood hero', and Fuutaro gets Takeru to put his number into Gaku's phone. "Just in case," he says, "It's easier than dowsing in a spring." 

As they watch Gaku, flanked by the twins and trailed after by Fuutaro, go down the temple steps, Alain asks if dowsing by spring was at all a regular form of human communication. Onari bulldozes over Takeru's casual agreement with an explanation so expansive, Makoto gets away with doing all the fussing over Takeru's completely nonexistent injuries from falling off a cliff by himself.

This means, however, that Alain has to do his own fussing later - but as Makoto tugs Takeru down the hallway he finds that the prospect isn't as bad as it sounds. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1-Gaku's t-shirt says "It's a beautiful day to leave me alone", because I couldn't find one that says "Yellow is the color of danger". 
> 
> 2-Yasei and Hokkyoku are just. the Wild from "Wild (Black Bear)" and the Polar from "Polar Bear". occasionally when they descend to earth they'd need names, right? esp if they're hanging around with dad? i love yellow's kids who adopted him.


End file.
